


The Unchanging Ache of Things

by journaliar



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 12:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5706949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/journaliar/pseuds/journaliar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Root and Shaw tried to have sex and one time they were successful. AKA Six Times Root and Shaw kind of missed each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unchanging Ache of Things

_A thirsty body, a tired heart_

    _**And the unchanging ache of things**_

 

 

 

i.

 

“So, should I look forward to never seeing you again or is that just wishful thinking on my part?”

 

Root smiles but its down turned at the corners and Shaw wonders if dark humor was the wrong response to the situation but Root sighs then, leans back into her seat and grins fully at her from across the small booth.

 

“Always playing hard to get, Sameen.” She murmurs quietly and Shaw rolls her eyes before focusing on the red cut on Root's forearm, the one that matches her own and thinks about how soft Root's gaze was as she watched Shaw cut the chip from her flesh. Root moves like she knows what Shaw is thinking about, her thumb coming to sweep over the wound and Shaw thinks about bacteria and germs, about alcohol that would burn it clean and make Root's eyes glisten.

 

Shaw frowns, stuffing a french fry in her mouth from the mostly empty plate in front of her before meeting Root's unwavering gaze. “It's not the worst, you showing up and whisking me away to steal submarines and stuff. I might miss that.”

 

“Yeah?” Root smirks and Shaw shoves more food in her mouth and feels like she's given Root a peak at something important. Root leans forward against the table then, cheek against her fist and when Shaw doesn't lean away, back into the booth, she bites her lip.

 

Shaw exhales then clears her throat and shrugs. “I said 'might'.”

 

Root is silent then, just staring at Shaw in that way that is too searching and always leaves Shaw toeing the line of uncomfortable but she doesn't squirm, just looks back evenly.

 

“So, what do you want to do on your last night as Sameen Shaw?” Root asks finally and Shaw just shifts and climbs out of the booth, throwing crumpled bills onto the table while Root gazes up at her.

 

“Let's get out of here.” She mutters, tucking her hands in the pockets of her jacket after adjusting her knitted cap and Root's eyes go dark with excitement.

 

They don't get far.

 

The alley besides the diner is dark and narrow and probably rodent infested but Shaw is quiet, leaning against the damp brick while Root does the same across from her. They're hiding from the icy wind and the soft, sideways rain and the looming unknown.

 

This feeling, this feeling that is impending and inevitable makes Shaw's palms itch. Makes her spend too much time looking at Root in the errant glow of grimy streetlights until it feels like she's splitting at the seams.

 

Root is silent as Shaw approaches her, not even a flirty comment as Shaw edges into her space and pins her there, against the wall. She only watches quietly with bruises under her eyes and smoke in her hair and gun powder burned into the soft crease between her thumb and index finger.

 

Shaw wants to ask her if she's okay. Wants to know if she's will be okay. But the words feel bad in her mouth, like they'll sound clunky and useless if she's the one to say them out loud so instead Shaw leans up and kisses Root with her eyes open.

 

Root keeps her eyes open too, pupils dilated as they track across Shaw's face when she pulls back slowly, frowning because somehow that felt even more clumsy than the words probably would've.

 

“Do that again?” Root breathes and Shaw nods once before kissing her again and this time it is more effective, more Root leaning in to the contact and more Shaw urging her closer.

 

Root's mouth is warm and sweet from her coffee with too much sugar and Shaw follows the taste well past her lips, pushing her cold hands under Root's jacket and blouse until her thumbs are slipping beneath the edge of her bra without preamble. And Root goes docile, shifting most of her weight back against the wall while Shaw circles the tips of her breasts with her thumbs and Shaw groans at just how hot submission is when Root is wearing it.

 

She kisses her harder, licking into the slick heat of her mouth while she gropes and scratches beneath her clothes and Root moves into the contact, moaning low and long when Shaw drags her fingernails down her belly.

 

“Tell me you want it.”Shaw murmurs against Root's jaw, fingertips dipping past the waist of her jeans before opening her pants easily. Root shifts, legs spreading and hips lifting and Shaw breathes deeply. She knows that Root wants this because Root has always wanted this but she demands it anyway.

 

“I want it.” Root hisses, face turned up towards the night sky when Shaw's hands sinks between her legs. She breathes in shakily then gives Shaw that soft, smoldering look that always makes Shaw feel like her ribs are bent inward against her insides.”I want it.”

 

Shaw doesn't hesitate to rub slow circles against Root until she's wet against the pad of her fingers, cotton and denim tight around her hand and Root keening softly into her hair. She grips Root's hair, tugging her head back and to the side until she can bite at the tender skin of her neck, tugging at the flesh until its flushed with blood.

 

Her breathing turns ragged and Shaw swallows thickly at the sound, butting her head against Root's chin while a hot knot forms low in her own stomach.

 

“Stop.” Root murmurs suddenly like she really meant to put a 'don't' in front of that but she nudges at Shaw's shoulder until she stops grinding circles into her clit and pulls away from her bruised throat. “Stop. I can't-”

 

And Shaw can't hear anything but she sees Root's eyes loose focus, her back straightening and Shaw reluctantly pulls her hands free, bracing her palms on the brick wall on either side of Root while the Machine chatters in her ear. Shaw's never been cock blocked by a computer but it's somehow more annoying than if it were a person.

 

“She needs me.” Root finally says, eyes snapping back to Shaw and she eases away from her, fisting her shaking hands. “I'm sorry.”

 

“Yeah.” Shaw grunts, licking at her cold lips and wondering if she'll ever see Root again. “Yeah. Okay.”

 

 

ii.

 

“What do you want?” Shaw demands, tugging down the hem of her dress and stomping over to Root where she's leaning on a glass display case.

 

“Do you have something that will make my eyes pop?” Root asks coyly, shaking her hair over her shoulder and Shaw grinds her teeth together forcefully.

 

“Sure.” She says, smiling through a grimace and Root only cocks an eyebrow, adjusting the strap of her red dress. “My fist.”

 

Root rolls her eyes, straightening so she is towering over Shaw in her heels. “While I've imagined doing many exciting things with your fist, I was actually thinking more of something in a blue or green.”

 

“Seriously.” Shaw hisses, glancing around the busy department store and she catches the eye of her manager for a moment before looking back to Root. “What's up? Are we getting numbers again? Is John okay?”

 

“Retail life has you on edge, I see.” Root smiles, her mouth blood red and her eyes glowing. Shaw clears her throat and looks away again, forcing a fake smile across her mouth. “Unfortunately, Sameen, this is just a wellness check.”

 

“You've got to be kidding me.” Shaw bites out under her breath and Root smirks.

 

“Whats wrong? Need a little action?” Root asks demurely, stepping closer and Shaw doesn't move, only watches Root with cool eyes. “When's your break? I'd be happy to provide some excitement.”

 

“What? You gonna let me kneecap you in the break room?” Shaw wonders with a smirk and a hungry smile blooms across Root's mouth. Shaw finds it so hot that it's irritating.

 

“If you're lucky.” Root hums and Shaw shakes her head in amusement, watching as her manager begins to inch through the crowds towards them.

 

“Ma'am, I think we may have what you're looking for in the back.” Shaw finally mutters awkwardly and Root smiles brightly. “Follow me.”

 

Root does follow her, right into the supply room.

 

“Some of those women out there would gladly slaughter one another to get back here.” Root murmurs, glancing around at the boxes on the shelves.

 

“Shut up and come here.” Shaw says, closing the door behind herself and leaning against it. Root turns on her like a predator, feline and starved.

 

 

“What can I do for you, Sameen?” Root wonders teasingly, tilting her head to the side as she moves close to Shaw, smiling when she lifts a hand to smear Root's blood red lipstick down her chin.

 

This close up Shaw can see that Root is exhausted. Under the make up there are tired eyes and the stiffness of her spine is forced. “What does The Machine have you doing out there?”

 

Shaw sometimes thinks about John but never worries about him. She doesn't worry about Finch either because she's positive John has an eye on him but she thinks about Root and feels unsettled with the knowledge that she's out there working alone. It's annoying as hell when Root shows up in her tight dresses and night time makeup in the middle of the day but it's also reassuring.

 

“A lot.” Root admits quietly, crowding Shaw against the door and pressing her palms to the wood on either side of Shaw's head. “Are you gonna take my mind off of it?”

 

“I am feeling kind of generous. Maybe, I'll do you if you do me.” Shaw says, arching an eyebrow while she reaches out to tuck all of her fingers under the hemline of Root's dress and inch the material upwards. The slack-jawed arousal that takes over Root's face is equal parts erotic and amusing and Shaw stretches upwards to kiss her.

 

“Did you miss me, Sweetie?” Root asks against her mouth as Shaw bunches her dress at her waist, huffing out a breath when she realizes Root isn't wearing underwear.

 

“Root.” Shaw bites out even though she assumes that the feeling she has when she thinks about Root, tight and dense and suspended between her lungs so she feels it when she breathes, is yearning or desire or whatever.

 

“It's okay, you don't have to tell me.” Root smirks, lifting her hands to Shaw's chest, fingertips sliding over hard nipples. “I have other ways of knowing.”

 

Root eases to her knees then, slow and graceful like they have all the time in the world and Shaw blows out an irritated laugh, spreading her legs obediently when Root nudges them apart.

 

She takes her time pushing Shaw's dress up and guiding her underwear down and off, her mouth roaming Shaw's thighs and Shaw lets her but says. “I don't have all day, Root.”

 

“Oh, Sameen.” Root moans, reaching between Shaw's legs and spreading the wetness she finds all over. It makes Shaw clench her jaw, feels like she's coming out of her skin.

 

“I don't have all day.” Shaw repeats and Root just hums in acknowledgment.

 

“Pity.” Root sighs against Shaw's thigh, pressing two fingers, deep and reaching, inside of her. “Do you know what I would do to you if we had all day?”

 

“Talk my ear off?” Shaw grunts, dropping both hands to bury her fingers in Root's hair.

 

“My mouth would be far too busy for that.” Root grins sharply, eyes going bright when she feels Shaw clench uncontrollably around her fingers at the comment. Root nips at her hip hard before pulling out enough to hold Shaw open with her fingertips, leaning forward and licking directly between her legs.

 

Shaw gasps and her legs tremble, threatening to close and Root pins her into place with hands at her hips, shoulders her way in tighter and laps at her cunt.

 

And it's not as if Shaw has been abstinent in Root's absences. There was the make-up girl from the Sephora counter and the bartender from the bar a block away from her job but those other encounters pale in comparison to what Shaw feels when it's Root working to get her off.

 

“Don't stop.” Shaw whispers, staring down at Root, at the flashes of her pink tongue and wetness on her lips. “Dont-”

 

Root hums quietly, flattens her tongue when Shaw's hips grind against her mouth. And Shaw is practically seeing stars, stomach and hamstrings tight with tension when a pounding on the door at her back makes Root jerk away.

 

“What's going on in there?” The manager's voice fills the small space and Root groans, grins, looks up at Shaw apologetically. Shaw's grip on Root's hair tightens, urging her closer again but Root only smiles, smoothing her fingers down Shaw's thighs longingly and smearing the lipstick prints she finds there. “Sameen?”

 

“I'm taking a break!” Shaw finally manages, watching mournfully as Root leisurely unfolds her long limbs.

 

“The stock room is not a designated break area.” He bellows and Shaw rolls her eyes as Root tugs down her dress then Shaw's, reaching between her legs to pet her one last time before drawing away. Shaw watches her pick up her purse, balling up Shaw's panties and tucking them inside and is almost one hundred percent sure that she is going to murder this man.

 

“I get off in a couple of hours.” Shaw says and Root moves closer, casually towering over her for a moment. Root's lips twitch like she wants to say something else but instead she pulls a tissue from her purse and wipes at her mouth, removing all traces of her lipstick and Shaw.

 

“I'll be long gone by then I'm afraid.” Root pouts even as there's another knock on the door. “See you around, Sameen.”

 

“Be safe.” Shaw blurts and Root hesitates, her eyes dark and pulling in the way that always makes Shaw think of drowning. She turns then, throwing open the door and Shaw's manager is standing with his fist raised, prepared to knock again.

-

“Oh, Sameen. You've been so helpful! I can't thank you enough!” Root gushes dramatically, glancing at Shaw over her shoulder before slipping around Shaw's manager without another word and Shaw watches her disappear awkwardly.

 

“So, exactly, what were you being so helpful with...” He asks and Shaw fists her hands at her sides and thinks of all the ways she could kill him with a mascara wand.

 

 

 

 

iii.

 

Shaw watches the door.

 

The gentle tinkering of the lock being picked from the outside is earsplitting and she focuses on it. Knees bent and gun level, she waits.  
  
She doesn't let herself expect more than an incredibly unlucky Samaritan agent on the other side of the door. But she thinks of Root and her affinity for breaking into Shaw's apartment and eases her finger off of the trigger just a fraction.  
  
It's been days since anyone has had contact with Root. It's Shaw, Finch, John and even Fusco taking turns asking one another if they've heard anything. It's Shaw staring into the surveillance camera of an ATM machine and awkwardly asking if Root is alive only to infuriatingly receive nothing but silence.  
  
Harold's ominous words have been wrapped around Shaw's mind like barbed wire, tight and cutting and wondering if Root is alive or if Root is dead keeps her up at night. Those rapid, sickening thoughts are the reason she hears the soft snick and clank of the deadbolt being picked.  
  
It's the reason that when the lock gives and the door inches open, Shaw springs forward, slamming the intruder into the door frame and pressing the gun to their head.  
  
Root laughs.  
  
Nearly manic and with her teeth bared, she grins down at Shaw in the dingy hallway light and leans into the pressure of the gun between her eyes like it's a hug.  
  
"Miss me, Sameen?" She asks and Shaw watches her eyes flutter shut as she pushes the muzzle forward, tipping Root's head back into the wooden door jam with an audible thud. Root swallows, throat working visibly even as her lips split into a sharp smile.  
  
"I thought you ..." Shaw says after a long moment, breathing slow and even as the nauseating, heavy knot that feels as though Shaw has never lived without it, begins to unfurl in relief.  
  
"Surprise." Root says, opening her eyes and watching Shaw steadily until the gun is jerked away. She stares at Root and feels urgent and restless so suddenly that she shoves her back against the frame because it feels like it's the only thing that makes sense.  
  
She moves until there's contact and Root's breath as the wood digs into her back is sharp. Root smells like sweat and smoke, rich and dark where Shaw tucks her nose against her neck.  
  
Her skin is warm, flushed with blood and Shaw sighs, moving her hands to grip the lapels of her leather jacket and the zipper makes a clanking noise when it bumps against the gun still in her hand. She pulls the material off of her shoulders and Root groans, soft and pained, makes the same noise when the sleeves catch at her elbows.  
  
"You hurt?" Shaw asks against her collarbones and Root laughs as the jacket finally falls away, tilting her head towards her as Shaw noses along her cheekbone.  
  
"I'm fine." Root lies just as Shaw finds the messy bandage at her bicep. It's stiff with caked on blood and Root hisses when Shaw's fingers trip along the gauze. "Mostly fine."  
  
Shaw can practically taste the heat radiating from Root and when she pulls back, unbuttoning Roots blouse from the bottom to the top, Root watches with glazed over eyes that shine even in the bad lighting of the corridor. She splits the top apart, fingers drifting over Root's throat and the lacy cups of her bra and down to the the hastily bandaged wound at her side.

 

“Through and through. Hardly anything at all.” She winces, shying away from Shaw's touch.  
  
"Who shot you?" Shaw asks, prodding at the discolored skin peeking from the edges of the wound and Root sways into her, folds around the pressure of her fingers.  
  
"I think Martine has a _crush_ on me." Root teases through gritted teeth and Shaw rolls her eyes, trails her fingers away from the wound to drag her hand straight down the middle of Root's stomach and tuck her fingertips into the front of her jeans, yanking lightly.  
  
"Looks like it." Shaw mutters and where she expects to find anger at Root for being so fucking reckless there is only an urge to be close to her. Like the relief of seeing Root has warped something in Shaw.

 

“C'mon, Sweetie. You know I've only got eyes for you.” Root says and Shaw frowns at her.  
  
"You should've come to me." She says and Root smiles tiredly. The gun is still gripped loosely in Shaw's hand and Root is staring, staring, staring.

 

“It wasn't safe.” Root finally says.  
  
Shaw reaches up to grip her face, hand around her jaw, forcing her neck backwards but they don't break eye contact. "I don't care how dangerous it is. You get to me."  
  
"Careful. You might make a girl think you care." Root says seriously and Shaw is deliberately silent.  
  
She is still when Root moves to kiss her. She lets her lick at the seam of her lips, until the hair on her forearms stands on end and she has no choice but to open for her. Which she does with a sound that makes Root inhale sharply, makes her mouth turn fierce against Shaw's.

 

Root breathes shakily and Shaw knows it has nothing to do with the gun held absently in her hand and everything to do with the sloppy trail she's making down Root's throat, biting at her breast through the ridiculous lace of her bra. Shaw is not a big fan of being on her knees but she wants to taste Root's fucking perfect hipbones so she makes an exception and God, it always feels like she's making exceptions for Root.  
  
So Shaw kisses down her stomach slowly, biting at her soft skin, licking into her navel like a threat and Root's fists are like iron in her hair as she eases down, finally setting her gun down just inside of her apartment so she can grab onto Root's ass with both hands.

 

“Fuck. Yes.” Root bites out, hips lifting away from the door frame as Shaw reaches and tugs at the waist of her jeans until they come undone under her hands, dragging them down her hips and the curve of her ass so she's nosing along the beginnings of Root's pubic bone, breathing against her pubic hair.

 

It's hot but so is the heat emanating from Root's entire body, distracting and sticky. Shaw bites at Root's waist, guiding her more into the dim light and exhales in annoyance at the bright red striations leading down to the wound in Root's side.

 

The telltale signs of infection are too obvious to be ignored. And as irritating a blow to her ego as it is, it explains Root's bright, unfocused eyes and her increased body temperature.

 

“What're you doing?” Root whimpers as Shaw sits back on her heels and peels away the tape around the gauze to expose the wound. “Shaw?”

 

“This is infected.” Shaw murmurs, scrubbing a hand down her face before eyeing Root with her clothes hanging off of her. It looks so good that it makes Shaw lean in to trace her tongue across the waist of her panties before pulling away again. “You could be septic.”

 

She stands then, ignoring Root's complaints as Shaw pulls her pants up with her.

 

“That needs to be cleaned and you need antibiotics.” Shaw huffs and Root laughs, that nearly hysterical sound again, pulling Shaw close and tucking her own hand inside of her jeans. Shaw watches her fingers disappear, the flex of her wrist, before looking up at Root again.

 

“Shaw.” Root pleads and Shaw looks on, swallowing at the sweltering tension settled low in her stomach.

 

“Just...just let me take care of you, Root.” Shaw finally says, batting Root's hands away even as Root's expression becomes unreadable. She lets her hand be pulled out, licking her lips and Shaw glances up at her expectantly.

 

Root is going to say something. Something that will make Shaw uncomfortable, she can tell because Root's brows are drawing together in that way that makes Shaw grit her teeth in preparation of an onslaught. But instead of words there is only a soft smile and Root swaying into Shaw deliberately, like she's taking mercy on her.

 

“How about you take care of me _after_ you take _care_ of me?” Root voice is low and aching and it hits Shaw between the legs, makes her lean up to kiss her hard even as she re-buttons her jeans.

 

“Later.” Shaw murmurs against her mouth and then she's pulling Root into her apartment and shutting the door.

 

It's not surprising that there's no time for later because there never is. There's barely enough time clean the wounds and shove a fistful of pills down Root's throat before there's a whisper in her ear and Root's gone as suddenly as she came.

 

Shaw spends the rest of the night thinking of Root, the bullet hole in her arm, the soft hair between her legs.

  
  
  


 

iv.

 

Root shows up to the subway with cheap tequila, fresh limes and no remorse.

  
  


They do shots and Shaw tries to figure out if she hates Root or respects her for what she did while Root blatantly eyes the pinpoint bruise at her neck from the other side of Finch's desk.

  
  


“You gonna apologize?” Shaw asks after enough alcohol and Root swallows and shakes her head in the negative while she sucks idly at a lime wedge. And, of course, Root wouldn't feel the need to apologize for tranquilizing her like an animal.

  
  


“Are you mad at me?” Root wonders even though Shaw doubts she even really cares, tracing her thumb around the edge of an empty shot glass. Shaw watches, searching for the tight, fiery, expanding feeling that means anger and can't. There's a messy cluster of other things that are impossible to sort through and are all related to Root but anger isn't one of them.

  
  


“No.” Shaw answers honestly and Root's smile widens as she pours two more shots.

  
  


“It makes me happy to hear that.” Root says sweet and threatening, nudging the full glass across Finch's desk and Shaw picks it up and swallows it down. Warmth in Shaw's chest makes it hard to think and she wonders if it's from the ridiculously cheap alcohol or from Root. Root licks her lips, the heat flares and Shaw has her answer.

  
  


They stare each other down and when Root's eyes dart to the cot on the other side of the subway, Shaw smirks.

  
  


They fall on to it, nearly cause the entire thing to buckle as they tug haphazardly at each others clothes and trade messy, biting kisses. Shaw is worked up and annoyed and it's completely idiotic how good it feels to get Root underneath her, to pin her wrist to the flimsy mattress and grind their hips together.

  
  


Root's shirt is off, the cups of her bra pushed up and Shaw's pants are somewhere at the foot of the bed and it's all working for her. It must be working for Root too because she's breathing so hard and the cot is squeaking as she bucks against the press of Shaw's hips. Months and months and _months_ of unintentional foreplay means the friction, even through the material of Root's pants, literally makes Shaw's eyes roll into the back of her head.

 

Shaw grinds down hard and slow, watching Root's eyebrows knit together in pleasure. That feeling that Shaw has come to associate with Root, light and fluttering and uncomfortable, surges in her chest. It makes Shaw press her lips to Root's forehead before kissing her mouth.

 

“I'm...” Root says, soft and urgent. “I'm glad you're safe, Sameen. I don't know what I would do if something happened to you.”

 

That makes Shaw curl forward and bite at her mouth, makes her chest tight and uncomfortable but instead of pushing Root away, Shaw presses into her harder, moves rougher.

 

“Root, please.” Shaw moans, nipping at her jaw. “Stop. Talking. I'm trying to get off.”

 

Root laughs at that, offering Shaw a messy kiss.

 

“You're going to make me come” Root promises and Shaw groans, buries her face in her neck, pushes Roots thin wrists into the mattress and bites too hard at her shoulder, listening to Root moan. Tension is building so incredibly fast inside of her that if feels like it'll wreck her, like Root will wreck her and she is so hungry for it.

 

She wants it so badly that when Root arches up and squeezes her hips to hold her still, she almost, finally, murders her.

 

“What're you doing?” Shaw gasps, pressing her hips down against her hold.

 

“Someone's coming.” Root says thickly, loosening her grip just enough and dropping her eyes to watch Shaw move.

 

“Yeah, its supposed to be me.” Shaw bites out and Root scrapes her teeth up her throat, gnawing at her jaw.

 

“We have about thirty seconds before Harold finds you riding me like a jockey.” Root offers breathlessly, twisting her arms in Shaw's grip. Shaw doesn't let go, doesn't move from the cradle of Root's hip. “If you think you can manage.”

 

 

Harold finds them drunk and disheveled twenty seconds later. He doesn't comment on the agitated sneer on Shaw's mouth or Root's bruised smile.

  
  


 

v.

 

The only thing Shaw does is stay alive long enough for Root to find her.

 

It was never a question if Root would come from her. The only real question was whether Root would get herself killed trying or kick down Samaritan's door like thunder.

 

It was the latter.

 

Because of course it was and Shaw would've laughed at Greer's shock if her mouth wasn't so full of blood.

 

After the rescue when the only thing it felt like Shaw could do was breathe and watch the world spin by from under impossibly heavy eyelids, Root had prowled the edges of her consciousness protectively, lurked just out of her sight watchfully until Shaw could finally claw her way into coherence and then she was gone.

 

Switzerland. Tokyo. Minnesota. According to Finch, Root was everywhere and nowhere, cutting away at Samaritan with scalpel like precision.  
  
John was the one who told her what happened, the things they'd done, when Finch had been guilty and reluctant to do so. Rubbing at the atrophied muscles in Shaw's legs, he described the monster Root had become with awe in his voice.

 

“She believed in you.” Reese says, rubbing at Shaw's calf so deeply that it hurt.

 

It feels obvious that Shaw believed in Root right back.

 

So, just like before, Shaw waits.

 

Weeks and Weeks.

 

And just like before, Root shows.

 

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Shaw says into the darkness of her bedroom, eyes focused on the shadows in the corner and Root laughs, teeth gleaming in the dark before she pushes away from the wall and into the dim light seeping through the curtains.

 

The new safe house is a penthouse this time around, a little much but Harold had insisted on a place for all of them that wasn't the dank subway. The whole thing is a little too sitcom-y for Shaw's taste but she has her own space and a bed that's not a cot or a gurney so she can't complain.

 

Probably won't complain to waking up to Root skulking in her space either.

 

“Miss me?” Root wonders quietly but there's no playfulness bending her words. She asks like she really wants an answer. Shaw isn't sure if those are the right words but she doesn't deny them, just presses a hand against her still tender ribs and shuffles up against the headboard, back popping in the way it does nowadays.

 

Her body feels like a stranger. Like parts of her have been shredded apart and ground down then poured back into her bones and now she doesn't quite fit. It will take time and some of the broken parts will heal back to what they were while some will stay broken forever and Shaw will get use to it.

 

Shaw looks at Root now, quiet and wild eyed, like she doesn't quite know how to shape herself back into something human, not with the Machine just as broken as the rest of them and maybe Shaw _has_ missed her. Because Shaw feels more grounded in her bones when Root is around. Root inspires a visceral reaction in Shaw that feels like kick-back and recoil, like things that are beyond her control and feel so much better for it.

 

“Get over here.” Shaw finally says pulling her top off gingerly in invitation. Root stares at her with dark, glassy eyes and there's something there, churning violently behind the brown of her iris, that Shaw wants to lure out. Root steps out of her boots, gaze locked on Shaw and her new, pink scars, as she unbuttons her jeans, steps out of those too, and lets her.

 

The bed is too small and when Root eases down beside her, Shaw's skin feels raw and alive where they're pressed together. Shaw doesn't hesitate to pull her on top of her, tugging when Root tries to avoid all of her still bruised flesh and tender parts.

 

“Sameen.” Root murmurs in warning and the last time Shaw can remember Root saying her name, there had been blood and smoke and Root's voice sounding like she was speaking underwater.

 

“Get close.” Shaw instructs until Root is settled in the cradle of her hips, elbows digging into the mattress above her shoulders. And Shaw skims her hands over Root's ribs, under her soft tee shirt until Root bows her head and sighs.

 

“I don't want to hurt you.” Root says quietly, letting more of her weight settle along Shaw's body and it feels good, sold and real.

 

“Liar.” Shaw teases quietly against her ear and Root huffs out an amused breath, lets Shaw twist her out of her shirt and bra so they're skin to skin.

 

The desire that surges inside of Shaw is familiar and welcome as she wraps a hand around the back of Root's neck and guides their mouths together. Shaw suddenly realizes that she'd forgotten the soft heat of Root's lips, the sharpness of her teeth against her tongue and she works to burn this moment into her memory.

 

“I missed you.” Root gasps, pulling away to blink down at Shaw. “I...”

 

“I know, Root.” Shaw admits quietly, leans up to kiss her softer this time and Root pulls in an unsteady breath before sitting back on her heels and reaching for the waistband of Shaw's shorts. She drags them down, presses her fingertips into the bruises still mottled faintly across her legs.

 

The look on Root's face makes Shaw's chest heavy and hot so she reaches for Root's hands and guides them to her naked breast. “Shaw-”

 

“Squeeze.” Shaw instructs lowly and Root stares at her for a long moment before complying. “Harder.”

 

She does, tugging at her nipples before bending to take the tips of her breast between her teeth and then there is a different, easier, heat filling the space between Shaw's ribs. That heat makes Shaw's hips move restlessly and her hands pull at Root's hair and the insides of her thighs slick.

 

She watches Root presses her legs apart, split her open until her hip flexors ache. It makes her gasp, makes her throw her arm over her eyes and sink into the sensation.  
  
"Do you want my fingers?" Root asks knowingly, draping Shaw's legs across her thighs. And Shaw doesn't question how she knows, how she knows that she needs to be handled and fucked, held down and dragged over the edge. She just nods, pulling her hand away from her eyes to watch Root gingerly suck two fingers into her mouth.

  
She strokes between her thighs slowly, eyes sharp and focused and Shaw bites her lip, claws at the mattress while Root wakes her body. Shaw shudders at the slow, slippery circle of Root’s fingers,teeth clenching and entire body attempting to curl into the feeling.

  
  


Root’s gaze lifts, lips parting slowly and her ragged exhale echoes Shaw’s, breathing together as Root presses all the way into her so slowly that it feels like she's tracing over every one of Shaw's nerves individually. It’s intense, almost painful, with Root watching her the way she is, but Shaw stares back while her cunt clenches and clenches around long fingers and she’s surprised when Root looks away first.

  
Bending forward, nosing across Shaw’s collar bones then down between her breast where she stays, curled over Shaw protectively.

  
  


“Root.” Shaw whispers, cupping her head in both hands but Root doesn't look up, just keeps fucking into Shaw slowly and takes a humid, shuddering breath against her sternum. Her breast are damp with Root's tears, warm and trickling across her discolored skin and Shaw ignores the pull in her shoulder and presses her lips to Root's hair, whispers her name again. “Stop.”

 

Shaw may not experience much emotion but she understands the necessity of it in normally functioning people and right now Root is overflowing with it, crumbling under the weight of it. Shaw tugs her long fingers from between her thighs and urges her face upwards until Root is staring back at her with wet eyes, taking thick, gasping breaths.

 

“Just stop.” Shaw whispers and the expression on Root's face is making her throat tight, making it hard to swallow and speak so she does neither. Instead she pulls her up, pulls her close.

 

They lie together for a long time, wide awake and not speaking.

 

“I don't sleep much anymore.” Root says like an apology and Shaw only exhales slow and long and says “Neither do I.”

 

vi.

 

After almost a year, everyone uneasily accepts Shaw's declaration that she's ready to return to the field. Her shoulder still grinds like it's been dusted with gravel and some nights she wakes from a sweaty, dreamless sleep with anxiety weighted in her chest but she also she feels more like herself than she has in forever.

 

She feels good, even with the aches and Shaw wants to get back to doing the things she's meant to do. Pulling triggers, throwing punches and committing generally shady acts for the greater good. Shaw has a bunch of things that she wants to do now that she's back in the game but the thing at the top of her list is Root.

 

She knew that, if she escaped Samaritan alive, she would be different because Axis II personality disorder or not, that type of treatment has lasting effects. She hadn't realized, though, that Root would be different too. There is the same maniacal glint in her eyes and her continuous disregard for her own safety but she looks at Shaw with something decidedly different than the unchecked, gooey affection that Shaw thought too much about while in Samaritan's grip.

 

There are fewer teasing remarks and filthy innuendos since Shaw's return as Root's flirtation has given way to something darker, hungrier. Something that was sometimes the only thing keeping Shaw pushing through her rehab on the bad days. It's something that clearly wants to get it's jaws around her but Root is careful not to let that happen. Root has always pretended to be bad at impulse control but now Shaw can read the genuine struggle in her expression when she looks at her.

 

But she wants whatever Root is holding back in some misguided attempt to protect her. As if Shaw isn't stronger in all the places she was broken. As if Shaw doesn't trust that Root wouldn't dare tear her open without taking care to sew her back together after. There's a tension, taunt and quivering between them, like a burning fuse and an imminent detonation and Shaw has every intention of snapping it and setting them off.

 

She wants Root.

 

In a lot of confusing ways that are probably going to need to be dealt with sooner rather than later but also in ways that are not so hard to figure out. Now, after everything, it just doesn't make sense for them not to be making each other feel really, really good after they've both spent so much time feeling bad and all the complex stuff between them that use to be a deterrent now only seem like an incentive.

 

Being with Root would mean being _something_ to Root and Shaw is okay with that now.

 

“So...” Shaw starts, squinting into her scope and focusing on Root, some hundreds of feet away in an entirely different building, crouched behind a tipped over desk and typing away at a laptop like there aren't a mob of men trying to kill her. She sweeps away from Root and her leather jacket and dark hair tucked behind her big ears and Shaw fires a shot through the air and the glass and straight into the knee of a guy who is getting way too close. “We need to talk.”

 

The abandoned office building is such a stupid place to try to upload a virus meant to cripple whatever is left of Samaritan. There are too many windows, too much glass, nothing to hide behind but a cheap desks and the cement pillars keeping the structure standing. But the sun is bright and they're high enough that the sound of the city beneath them is only a hum and Shaw can't help but think it's a good day to finish off an AI super computer.

 

“About?” Root murmurs distractedly, hands flying over the keys and Shaw can practically hear the tap tap tap from her position at the top of the neighboring building. Root doesn't stop typing when she reaches for the back of her pants, pulls out a gun and blindly fires off a handful of shots over her shoulder. Only half hit their intended target, kneecapping one man creeping nearer but missing the other completely and Shaw frowns, jams the scope tighter against her face and fires off two shots that are far more accurate.

 

The Machine was built back up right along side all of them. It's glitchy and imperfect and throws tantrums like a fucking teenage girl sometimes but it's there, nestled in Root's ear and shining in Harold's eye. It's not as massive as it was before, it's view is narrowed so the information it supplies isn't always accurate. Sometimes they end up on the wrong street corner, throwing the wrong person into the back of a SUV, sometimes Root's blind aim is just off enough to make Shaw angry.

 

“About us.” Shaw grits, sweeping her aim to the left and towards two guys pushing through a barricaded door. The crack of the rifle vibrates all the way through Shaw as she takes them both out before swinging back to put Root in her sights.“Having sex...together.”

 

Not to get this tactile, instinctual thing between them out of their system because months held captive and fucking hallucinations of Root rescuing her like a _knight in shinning armor_ made it pretty clear that their connection is anything but disposable. But because Shaw wants her and it's obvious that Root wants her too and there's no good reason for them to not to have one another.

 

The fact they will probably burn one another to the ground seems inevitable either way.

 

Root says her name in warning, lifting her head to meet Shaw's gaze through her scope like they're face to face and not occupying two different buildings. “That's not a good idea.”

 

Shaw scoffs, rolls her eyes and fires a bullet just because. Root doesn't flinch. “Jesus, I can't even walk into a room without you eye fucking me into oblivion. You seriously think me eating you out is a _bad_ thing. ”

 

“Not...exactly.” Root says carefully before ducking lower behind the desk as gun fire suddenly fills their line of communications. Shaw easily takes out the shooter, pulling back to roll the tightness out of her shoulder before jamming her face against the eye piece again.

 

“Then what is it?” Shaw demands, watching Root straighten slightly, fingers speeding across the keys again.

 

“I'm just about done here.” Root murmurs without looking away from the screen. “Escort me out? And then we can figure out this whole situation.”

 

“Fine.”

 

Shaw clears an exit for Root, giving her a head start to the SUV tucked in a back alley a couple of blocks away and by the time Shaw gets to the black truck, Root is already dumping her gear into the back and Shaw does the same.

 

“What now?” Shaw asks quietly, stepping back so Root can pull the trunk shut.

 

“Now, we wait and hope the virus does it's job. Then bye-bye Samaritan.” Root sighs, brushing past Shaw towards the passengers side. Shaw follows, catches her by the bend of her arm and pulls her close

 

“Tell me.” Shaw demands calmly even though everything feels reversed and out of place, like for a split second she's not herself. And Root only stares at her for a long moment, dark and searching and Shaw doesn't shy away, just tightens her grip until her knuckles ache in the places they used to be broken. Those drawn out seconds feel like impending doom or a reckoning or a weapon that both Shaw and Root know will go off no matter what they do.

 

Root looks away first with a humorless laugh, eyes fluttering upwards and then closed entirely when Shaw muscles her back against the side of the car. They've been dancing in and out of each others space since forever, even more so since Shaw's return and Finch's insistence that they all live in one place like a damn fraternity, and Shaw's sure that there's nothing left but for them to just collide.

 

 

“I am...” Root swallows with a grimace. “I'm going to pull you apart. I'm going to pull you into a thousand pieces and I won't be able to stop myself.”

 

Shaw doesn't know what she's made up of, only what she's not, but the idea of Root flaying her open and exposing whatever is ticking inside doesn't seem so bad. She trusts that Root doesn't want to break her, only wants to feel along all of Shaw's important bits and Shaw doesn't think she'd mind.

 

“I'm not afraid...of that.” Shaw frowns, searching for the right words while Root opens her eyes, wet and shining. “Of you, in that way.”

 

Root blinks and blinks and the tears in her eyes don't fall. She is looking at Shaw like she has done all the hard work for her, hooked her fingers along her own ribs, split herself wide open for Root and showed her everything.

 

“Sameen.” Root bites out in warning, jaw flexing so tightly that the tendons in her throat stand out. Shaw leans into the space between them, until they're chest to chest and Shaw reaches up to strum her thumb over the tense connective tissue, dragging down into the soft hollow of her throat. “What are you saying?”

 

Shaw kisses her because she's done trying to articulate something she can't describe. She kisses Root hard, pushes her up against the SUV and licks into her mouth and Root nods like its an explanation anyway.

 

Root grins like a lunatic when Shaw lets her turn her and press her into the cool metal of the car door, let's her use her hips to hold her in place while she shrugs her jacket to the ground and unbuttons her blouse. Shaw fucking hates the way Root shifts, braces a forearm against the car above her head but all she can do is bite down on a groan as Root reaches under the edge of her shirt, scratching across her waist to the small of her back before drifting down to grope her ass while Shaw reaches out to palm her breast through the lace of her bra.

 

“Are you sure?” Root presses forward, lips to Shaw's hairline even as she redirects her hand down the back of of Shaw's jeans. Shaw can only nod because her throat is tight and painful and her stomach is tying into hot, heavy knots and there's something more in this moment that's binding hotly around Shaw and she doesn't fight it.

 

Root presses a kiss to her forehead before moving to undo Shaw's belt, the fasten of her jeans and easing her hand down into the space she's created. Shaw shudders at the press of Root's fingers, spreads her legs and surrenders. “I want you...I missed...”

 

Root moans quietly, her free hand lifting to brace against Shaw's neck as she strokes through her wetness, once, twice, before pushing inside of her with two fingers and kissing her hard.

 

“Jesus.” Shaw grunts quietly against her mouth at the sensation, raw and hot and so good. So good that Shaw sinks into the pressure of Root's palm at her throat, into her pressing and pressing and pressing fingers until she's rolling her hips into every slow thrust and struggling to breathe.

 

“Sameen.” Root coos, driving her hips behind her lazy movements while Shaw's insides tighten threateningly around her touch and Shaw drops her head back against the car window to meet her burning gaze even as the heel of her hand grinds against her clit over and over. “I want to look at you while you come all over my fingers.”

 

Shaw groans helplessly, comes and knows she'll never _ever_ live it down. The orgasm is slow and suffocating, like she's being held underwater and all she can do is gasp and let it roll through her. And, god, they should have been doing this since Root held that sizzling iron in front of her face.

 

“Well, that was quick. Hopefully you're not a one and done kind of girl.” Root teases, easing her fingers free with a smirk and Shaw holds off rolling her eyes in favor of watching Root tuck the glistening digits between her lips.

 

“God, you are so hot and so annoying.” Shaw mutters and Root only grins coyly around her fingers while Shaw reaches behind herself for the handle and pulling the door open. “Get in and take your pants off. We've got a lot of crap to work through so let your Machine know you're gonna be otherwise engaged for the foreseeable future.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
